Toppings
by sherlockian4evr
Summary: For the prompt: Sherlock is not social inept, knows what socially acceptable behaviour is. He can't be bothered, though John has found out that with the right incentive he can be. Sherlock starts treating Lestrade, Sally, Mycroft, Molly, Anderson better. He starts acting professionally around the crime scene, starts following the rules. He is polite to his brother. It is up to you


The crime scene was grizzly and Sally had stepped out on the kerb for a breath of fresh, but chilly, air. Each exhalation caused a visible puff to float around her face. Her hands were tucked in her pockets for maximum warmth and she had her scarf wrapped tightly around her mouth.

The Freak was due to make an appearance at any moment. Thankfully, John was already here. These days, Lestrade texted them both when he needed their help and John had been nearby at the surgery. Donovan scowled, Sherlock had arrived. He was smiling at her and, in his hands, were two beverage trays holding what appeared to be... she blinked... coffee.

"Good evening, Sergeant Donovan. Coffee?" Sherlock held out a tray in her direction, but she didn't move to take one. He rolled his eyes, then stopped himself and plastered the smile back on his face. "I haven't poisoned it, if that's your worry. John has forbidden me from tampering with both food and beverage." She still didn't take one. Sherlock's smile turned genuine as he saw John approaching.

"Mm. Thanks, Sherlock," John said as he took a cup from one of the trays. He smiled at Sally. "It's perfectly safe, I promise," John reassured the Sergeant.

Looking sceptical, Sally finally took a cup of coffee and sipped it. It was good and so warm. She could feel its heat pool in her stomach and radiate outward. Sally smiled. "Um, thanks?" She sounded uncertain and was regarding Sherlock with a puzzled look.

Sherlock nodded and said, "You're welcome," then walked with John towards the heart of the crime scene.

Sally stared after them, watching as John said something to the detective who smiled broadly. Sherlock bent his head and whispered into John's ear. The doctor gave a laugh and wrapped his arm around Sherlock. They were nutters, the both of them, but the coffee was nice.

The coffee scene was repeated twice more: once with Anderson, who clearly expected the brew to eat rapidly through his digestive system, and once with Lestrade, who only looked a bit surprised at the gesture and gulped the coffee down.

Sherlock didn't swoop down on the corpse. He didn't brush aside Anderson or the other officers. Instead, he pasted a smile on his face and greeted Lestrade, "Greg, you're looking well. I see your relationship with my brother agrees with you."

Lestrade choked on his coffee, spitting it out. "Damn!" At least he had managed to turn away from the corpse and had caught most of the coffee between his hand and his shirt. His front was drenched, but he hadn't corrupted the crime scene too badly.

John laughed. Sherlock didn't. He didn't even crack a smile… or a smirk. John leaned in and muttered something that only Sherlock could hear. Now Sherlock smiled. As before, he dipped his head and whispered into John's ear and John grinned, suppressing a laugh. "Sorry. Sorry," John apologised, "Don't mind me." He cleared his throat and put on a serious expression. "Do continue."

Sherlock looked from Lestrade and Anderson, then asked, "What do we have?" Sherlock listened intently to Lestrade's run-down of the pertinent facts leading up to the murder, then he listened to Anderson's guarded description of what he had found. When they had both finished, Sherlock expressed his appreciation for their input without any scathing remarks or sarcasm, then he politely asked, "If I may?"

Lestrade looked questioningly at John, one eyebrow raised.

Anderson just stood, mouth agape, regarding the younger man.

John stepped over to where Sherlock was crouched and bent down. Again, he muttered something unintelligible to the others in Sherlock's ear. This time, when Sherlock responded, it was a bit too loud, "… candy sprinkles." John barked a laugh and slapped a hand over his mouth to silence himself.

The evening continued in much the same way. John muttering to Sherlock. Sherlock whispering to John. Lestrade managed to catch about half of Sherlock's responses, which included: "No, not chocolate, caramel", "… cherry cordial", and "pineapple".

When Sherlock and John left, Lestrade walked over to Sally who was regarding him questioningly. "Don't ask, and I won't lie." He gestured to their retreating backs. "Honestly, I think they're completely mad." That, at least, was something with which Sally could heartily agree.

At the lab, Molly was bustling about, testing several compounds in an effort to identify their components. She flushed when she saw John and Sherlock enter the lab and ducked her head. Her infatuation with Sherlock had been put to rest and she regarded him as a kind of friend, but right now, she was having trouble getting definitive test results and she didn't relish what Sherlock would have to say about that fact.

"Molly," Sherlock said warmly, a small, but genuine smile on his face. "You look lovely." He gave her a brief hug. "Have you identified any of the component compounds?"

"N… no. I'm having a bit of trouble, but I'll get it," she said meekly.

"I know you will, Molly," he acknowledged, "If you would like, I'll be happy to help."

Molly stammered her appreciation of the offer. It was obvious that she didn't know what to make of Sherlock's behaviour, but Molly was smart. She knew that it had something to do with John. She shot John a look of thanks, as she turned to her work. Behind her, she heard John say something, she didn't catch what, but Sherlock's response of "Bananas" was clear. By the time John and Sherlock left, Molly was well and truly puzzled by their behaviour. The only thing that she was certain of was that she really didn't want to know any more details.

When they reached the flat, Mycroft was waiting in John's chair. Sherlock didn't bark "Piss off, Mycroft." He didn't take up his violin to torture it. What he did do, was offer Mycroft tea. At that, Mycroft's eyes narrowed. He observed the exchange between Sherlock and John, catching only Sherlock's quiet "Chocolate chips". Mycroft grinned. John might be a goldfish, but he was a resourceful goldfish and Mycroft silently commended him for his ingenuity. He very carefully did not laugh. As Mycroft left, he called Anthea to verify that surveillance to the inside of the flat had been terminated. It had.

The next morning, Mrs. Hudson was bustling about the flat. She had made them breakfast, which John had uncharacteristically turned down. She couldn't get a single bite into either of her boys. "Well, if you won't eat, you won't," she proclaimed, to much glee on John and Sherlock's part. They exchanged looks and burst out laughing. "Honestly!" Mrs. Hudson turned and walked towards their bedroom, intent on doing the laundry.

Simultaneously, John and Sherlock shouted, "Mrs. Hudson, No," but it was too late.

There, before her, on John and Sherlock's bed, were a set of sheets. Very messy, gooey, sugary sheets. It looked as if… Had they been eating sundaes in bed? No, that wasn't right. Suddenly, she made a deduction. It wasn't really very difficult. Oh, her kinky boys! No wonder they weren't hungry. She walked back to the kitchen, calmly, and looked at John and Sherlock. Smiling, she said, "I'll just let you tidy that up, then. I'm not your housekeeper."


End file.
